Doomwyte

Even before Chigid and his following had reached the rim, the screams began. The sounds were of Painted Ones in excruciating pain. Sobbing, screeching, wailing and pleading piteously. It had the desired effect—Chigid and his band halted, the fur on the scruffs of their necks rising in horror, as the cries continued.

“Heeeeek! Yowaaaaargh! Oh no, pleaze, mighty Baliss! Owowowoooow! No, pleaze, don’t do that! Yeeeeek!”

A horrified whisper ran through the vermin ranks.

“Baliss ’as gorrem, the giant serpent Baliss!”

“Baliss is torcherin’ ’em t’death slowly!”

The howls broke into sobbing moans. “Oh noooo, Baliss, mercy, pleaze! Arraaaaagh!”

Chigid seized the nearest beast to him, and began throttling the unfortunate. “Baliss? You never said nothin’ about Baliss!”

One of the vermin pointed a quaking claw. “Lookit, Chief…Baliss!”

The screams had ceased. From across the abyss they could see the great, glowing, green eye. Now an awful hiss sounded, echoing around the rim. “Balisssssssss! I sssssmell painted ratssssssss!”

It was more than any vermin’s nerve, including Chigid’s, could stand. They stampeded into a disorderly retreat, everybeast for himself, each scrambling to be first back up the tunnel. Chigid, being the Chieftain, rushed to his former position at the rear, which had now become the front. Everybeast feared Baliss—a bunch of vermin in an underground tunnel more than most, as it turned out.

Aluco shook Bosie’s paw firmly. “An excellent plan, sir, it worked perfectly.”

Wincing, the Laird of Bowlaynee extricated his paw from the owl’s talons. “Och, think nought of it, now let’s get oot o’ this neighborhood whilst the goin’s guid!”

A lot of the numbness had left Skipper’s footpaw, though he still limped a bit as Foremole Gullub assisted him back along the tunnel. Both the captive vermin, now bound together by slings, were made to march at the head of the group. Bosie followed behind, jollying them along with his swordpoint.

“Lead on, mah bonny scum, if’n there’s any chance o’ an ambush, ye’ll be the first tae get it, ye ken.”

It took some time, but they finally reached the spot where the tunnel split two ways, one straight on to the Abbey, the other, which was now on their right, to the place where Bisky had been abducted. Foremole sat back down on the rock where he had previously waited.

Aluco perched beside him, gesturing up to the low ceiling, which he could almost touch with his wingtip. “See the hollow up there? Well, that was left when this rock fell.” He gestured to the big boulder where he and Foremole were perched. It had left a sizeable dent in the tunnel roof. The tawny owl continued, “I brought that down, by scraping round its edges. Nearly killed myself in the process.”

Samolus held the lantern up. “Why are you tellin’ us this, friend?”

Aluco shrugged. “I was thinking of blocking that tunnel completely, so that the Painted Ones couldn’t use it to get at me. But I didn’t, because without the odd vermin to sustain me, I would’ve starved down here. But we could block it now, and stop them ever using the tunnels again.”

Bosie nodded. “Aye, a braw plan, laddie, if’n we did it now yon vermin wouldnae bother us further.”

Gullub stood atop the boulder, tippawed. He inspected the dented rift, nodding knowingly. “You’m roight thurr, zurr, all ee’d need wudd be to shift this yurr stone, an’ ee roof’d cave in. Hurr, ’twuddn’t take much, Oi c’d do et moiself.”

Samolus spread his paws expressively. “Then do it, an’ let’s have a safe passage back home. What d’ye say, friends?”

Skipper cast any further doubts aside. “Right, mates, get further down the tunnel, out o’ the way. Gullub, you jump as soon as it starts to move.”

Aluco eyed the two Painted Ones hungrily. “What do we do about these two villains?”

Bosie pointed to the tunnel that led to the Painted Ones’ camp. He gave both vermin a parting prod with his sword. “Ah’ll count tae three, if’n yore still here then Ah’ll give ye tae the owl. One…”

With their forepaws still bound, the two vermin fled, bumping into each other, down the tunnel.

Foremole Gullub set his huge digging claws into the earth around the stone slab, bellowing out, “Clear ee tunnel, she’m goin’ to collapse!”

They ran back, flattening themselves against the rock walls. Foremole Gullub gave a mighty heave. Nothing happened. He gave another, nothing happened again. Moving his digging claws to another position, the stout mole leader pushed upward and tugged down hard. There followed a grating rumble of rock, soil and timber. Gullub leapt, tucking himself into a ball, he rolled off down the tunnel.

Whuuump! Boom! Cruuuunch! Whoooosh!

Aluco was knocked flat by the blast of displaced air in the confined space. Suddenly everything was dark and filled with choking dust. Shielding their faces, the friends stayed put until silence fell over the scene. Skipper came forward, coughing as he held up the lantern. Bosie looked up and gasped.

“Great seasons o’ salt’n’soup, will ye no look at that!”